I am ashamed you should have the trouble of asking me to Merton so often,
and so in vain. I might give you a specious reason for not going now . . .
but I will honestly confess I believe I should not have accompanied
your Father in his Voyage to your house, had the sky been quite clear of
engagement. Why, I cannot exactly say: my soul is not packed up for
Merton yet, though one day it will be; and I have no such idea of the
preciousness of my company as to have any hesitation in letting my
friends wait any length of time before I go to occupy their easy chairs.
The day will come, if we live. I have had a very strong invitation to
Cambridge this week; to live with my old friends the Skrines in Sidney
College. But why should we meet to see each other grown old, etc.? (I
don't mean this quite seriously.) Ah, I should like a drive over
Newmarket Heath: the sun shining on the distant leads of Ely Cathedral.
_To F. Tennyson_.
BOULGE, WOODBRIDGE,
[25 _August_, 1851.]